When I Look At You
by iheartCSI4326
Summary: MSR: He could loose himself in her, time and time again. But would he need sanity to keep him from losing himself?


_Disclaimer: the usual, I own nothing, no infringement intended etc._

_My best friend Brittney has been begging me to write a MSR Fic for awhile now and after a few failed attempts and some frustration I managed to come up with this. I hope you like it my Reyes:P_

_All in Mulder's POV. I have no idea if this is even any good, it's sort of plotless and unbeta'd among other things. Read, review and leave me your comments! Thank you:)_

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**When I Look At You**

_by Lila Wills_

I saw her. She was standing there with that smile. Everything else seemed to pause around me, she was wearing that dress.. the black one, the one she would never admit to owning. She looks just like she did four years ago.

The only difference is, that her face is glowing, her steps have a bounce in them and she's heading straight for me.

Her voice is low and hushed, a intimate guilty pleasure we've become used to. I can tell she's unsure how to handle the male attention she's receiving from the other men in the room, that doesn't stop her from smiling a small smile at me, the corners of her mouth twitching as it turns to a smirk. She mentions that I haven't said a word to her yet, she's not worried. That look in her eye is not worry.. she's waiting for me to say what she knows I'm thinking.

I censor out the swear words I am dying to use when I say, "You.. look... edible."

It was as much as I could get out, she chuckles and I can tell that she knows what I actually meant to say but lets it do for now. She turns on her heel, which I can't help but watch her movements as she does, she's wearing black heels, not the overly glamourous type. But black and strappy, good enough for me. After all what difference is there between her usual heels and the heels she has on now?

I figure I may as leave the fashion to my petite red headed partner, after all I probably could never of picked out a dress as good as the one she is wearing.. one that accents her curves just in the right places. A mix of excitement and familiarity hits me when my hand finds the small of her back, if only the back of the dress were lower. Luckily our in-sync telepathy isn't actually definite mind reading, or I'd be in for it with where my mind is heading.

Her hand goes to her chest and she states that she forgot to put on her cross, I hadn't even begun to offer to go and get it for her when she's shushing me and telling me that she will be right back. _Scully, you make it so hard for me to show you that I care._

Making me work for her trust and her respect has always been a game of cat and mouse with us, I know it's only because we will always be equals. But I do hope that one day she will let me hunt her like prey, I know she has a daring side. If only she'd let me see it.

Tonight is without a doubt an experience, I lean up against the wood of the railing with a faint hint of impatience. Just as I look up it's like Christmas ten times over as the elevator doors open and she walks out, it occurs to me that not longer than twenty minutes previous I had watched her walk down the stairs and felt the exact same way as I watched her in an almost slow motion movement.

She hurries her steps and I grin at her as her arm slips through mine.. it's part of the deal, sure. That doesn't mean that I'm not enjoying this moment as much as possible, I have a hunch that she's secretly enjoying herself too.. the idea of her enjoying me makes a small burst of laughter bubble out of me and she turns her head to flash me a confused look. The frown on her face makes me want to place my hand on her forehead and smooth it out from her still youthful face, god knows she will always look timeless compared to me who had to pluck out a gray hair in front of the mirror that morning.

Before I can go into why I find myself amusing too often we're there. Time to get into character, her arm slips slowly out of mine and her hand slides down the sleeve of my suit jacket, before falling into my hand. Her small fingers grasp tighter and I know it's not for show, she never did like pretending to be something she's not. Not Dana Scully, not when she could show you exactly who she is and make you believe it.

The Maitre De welcomes us with a smile, commercialized or not you can hardly blame the man, seating guests day by day must get dreary. I hope that the night goes according to plan if only I could play around just a little without causing after affects, shame this is for work. Why is it I only ever see her look _this_ good when it just happens to be because it's a necessary requirement for our cover.

Not that she doesn't look good in her power suits with her usual hair style and her crisp but intoxicating shampoo scent. But the way she looks right now as I watch her slide into one of the seats we were shown to, I can't help but prefer her now. And that dress.

It's good to know that her head is in the game, she picks up the menu and appears to be reading over the selections when I hear her casually start to speak about the case.

"Are you listening to me, Mulder?"

I'm looking at you alright. Listening, I may be slightly hazy on that I'm afraid, I think to myself. But apparently it was written all over me as she puts down the menu and gives me a disapproving stare, she has so many of those.. the you weren't listening to me because you were staring at me like I am a museum exhibition one, has got to be my favorite. It could describe our relationship in the easiest way if Skinner needed a one hundred word essay on it.

The case happens to be quite ordinary, of course taking into account the fact it's an ordinary case for us. And I for one believe in extraterrestrials.. so maybe not everybody's idea of ordinary.

Time seems to fly and before I have really begun to forget that we are in fact working and not out for dinner as two single people enjoying a meal together with a candle in the center of the table, and polite conversation about hobbies and favorite holiday destinations, we are walking down the hall of the third floor, a comfortable silence fills the gap between her and me. If only we needed to keep up the charade of earlier, I'd love to move her closer to me, place my hand on her back as she steps in time with me as best she can.

I tilt my head around and clear my throat, suddenly just the sight of her has me needing to remember how to swallow, amusing how she was the only woman capable of turning me back into a drooling seventeen year old boy just with a strapless black dress and her hair curled and pinned up behind her.

She seemed to of missed me clearing my throat but notices after awhile the feeling of my eyes staring repeatedly at her as we walk. But she doesn't choose to say anything as we make a stop at her room number, she pauses in her steps and she walks a few forward toward me. I remember that she had asked me to mind her room key, of course.. what did I think she was doing. I retrieve it out of my left pocket and hand it to her, our hands pause hand, room key, and hand.

I move back out of the way. I wish I could conjure up an excuse to stay around for awhile, maybe raid the mini bar and flick peanuts. We'd find ourselves doing that in motels off the highway over the years.. only difference is that our undercover case is in a classy hotel, no motel midnight fun. I can't say that I'm not disappointed, so I decide to let her know just how much.

"Scully. I'm afraid of the dark."

Obviously vocabulary is not my strongest strength this evening, I loosen my tie as my other hand digs into my trouser pocket, rubbing my chin in an effort to seem laid back and casual. She's not believing it it for a second as I just about hear her roll her eyes. But still the sound of the door swinging slowly open is what I hear next, I lift my eye-line to see the back of her as she walks into the room, kicking off her heels as she goes.

"You're a bad liar." I hear her call from the adjoining bathroom as I close the hotel room' door and check it closed properly by jiggling the handle.

I mutter something under my breath, mainly because I had no witty response at hand ready to say back. Shrugging off my jacket I swing it over the near by armchair and seat myself down on it.

I can hear her humming in the bathroom and I try to lean the side of my head closer in her direction to try and guess what the song is. But she appears at the doorway before I can even make a guess. She seems to be just staring at me, I get a sudden sense of how she feels.. both flattered.. but also, it makes me slightly unnerved.

Raising my eyebrows I wait for her to say something but she doesn't, she just heads over to the mini bar and makes a decision on what looks good to her, she tosses one of the small bottles over her shoulder, which I barley catch, and stumble out of the chair resulting in a thumping noise when I land straight on my ass.

"I'd hate to see what you're like after a couple bottles of these," she sasses with a crooked smile as she sets herself down on the edge of the bed, laughing as she bounces slightly on the bouncy springs of the mattress.

I get to my feet and head over to her, sliding down onto the carpet. Leaning my back up against the end of the bed I look up at her and smile. It seems like forever since we had a moment.. a moment of peace where we just spend time together, without work and outside elements.

Startling me she gets to her feet and goes to turn on the radio that sits on the near by bedside table. She settles on some upbeat song I've never heard before, a clicking sound and she opens the first bottle of many this night I can tell. She downs it in one shot and I start to laugh.

She knows why, she knows that I will always love that she can drink me under the table without braking a sweat. Doesn't mean I'm going to go and tell her that though, I have to keep some dignity. Especially since I did land on my ass after falling out of a chair moments before.

I will never be able to figure out the chain of events that happened within that hour timeframe, all I know for sure was that a lot of alcohol was consumed, she was doing most of the heavy drinking, but I'd had my fair share, thats for sure.

Currently the woman who had made me stop and stare because she had such a air of class about her earlier that evening, was now dancing slowly to the song currently playing, her hair now loose from the hair pins. And a bottle of.. was it scotch or was it whiskey.. I couldn't quite see from where I was strewn across the bed with my tie long gone and my crisp white shirt now thoroughly wrinkled.

My breathing was shallow as I blinked slowly, the view of her dancing in front of me slightly slanted from the angle I was lying in. Somehow she managed to sway and then trip on her own feet landing head first on top of me, of course then all I could see was the black fabric of her dress.

"Hmmrpphhhhhhhh."

I heard giggling before she lifted her head from under my arm to look at me, it was clear she was smashed, though as was I and.. to be honest my head felt like I had stuck it into a tumble drier, not to mention I had a sudden amount of weight now on my chest which felt surprisingly weird. Though that was nothing until she decided to lean her elbows into my chest.

I frowned, "Dana.."

"What."

"Elbows."

"What about them."

"You're poking them straight _into_ me."

"I am not." She snorted faintly, as if the idea was completely unthinkable. So she left me with no choice but to shove her over. Which she wasn't very pleased about, causing her to poke her finger on my nose with a stern stare she hiccuped. "Watch it, Mulder."

This woman was so infuriating, squashing me, poking me, telling me what to do. I felt so mad for a split second as she continued to poke me now on my shoulder. But as she stopped to shiver the feeling of anger was replaced with a soothing feel of protectiveness. I rolled to my side and pulled the nearest blanket over her.

Her hand grabbed mine as I pulled the blanket up to her shoulders. She commented on the size of my hands and I didn't waste time being insulted, because next she went on to say how wonderful she found them. As she placed her fingers finger by finger atop of mine, her hand in mine I couldn't help noticing how she just would never stop making me feel all these emotions.

The woman could make me hate her.

The woman could make me want to poke her back.

The woman could make me laugh at her because she made the smallest thing hilarious.

The woman could make me want to play pretend for the rest of my life.

The woman could make me need her like I've never needed anything in my entire life.

The woman could make me love her, and completely worship her at the same time.

She won't ever stop making me go insane, but if this is what it takes to be here in a hotel room beyond drunk with her small hand in mine as she hiccups in my face and giggles.

I think I'll pass on sanity.

_**Fin**_


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